


keep your heart safe

by darkesky



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Faerghus (Fire Emblem), Fake Marriage, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesky/pseuds/darkesky
Summary: “So that’s why you don’t insist on going into town anymore,” Ashe mused to himself.Ingrid resisted the urge to slam her head against the table and wait for death to come and claim her.The soon-to-be king composed himself first, turning to Ingrid. “I suppose congratulations are in order for both of you.”“Your Highness—” The words stuck in her throat, and she waited for something to come to mind. What explanation could do the trick though?Mercedes smiled at her. “You’ll be Ingrid Gautier soon then.”---Ingrid takes matters into her own hands
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	keep your heart safe

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm here to contribute to one of the BEST friendships in all of Fodlan - the Faerghus Four

“Is that a ring?”

A silence fell in the war room, and Annette slapped a hand over her mouth. As her cheeks started to rival her hair, she swallowed hard and pressed forward anyway. “Sorry, sorry, I know.  _ ‘This isn’t the time.’” _

“Are you—Is she mocking me? I do not sound like that.” Seteth studied Annette as she flushed even brighter. Then, he turned to his daughter since she might be his lone ally in the room (Gilbert hid a smile and Byleth chuckled). Flayn answered the silent question in his eyes with her most innocent smile and a shrug. 

Then, Mercedes gasped and reached across the table. “It  _ is!  _ Ingrid, what have you been keeping from us?”

“Nothing!” Ingrid bit down on her lip and shot daggers into Annette. The mage offered a shrug before leaning across the table as well, desperately trying to get a view of the ring. When Mercedes grabbed her hand, she yanked it away and hid it beneath the table. Only looking at the Crest engraved in the cold would give away the origin. Then again, since it belonged to someone  _ else  _ sitting at this table, she wondered how long this mystery would take to unravel. “It’s just… It’s nothing.”

“You’re engaged! I didn’t even know you were dating anyone!” Annette squealed and clapped her hands. “Can I organize the wedding? Oh  _ please,  _ let me help organize the wedding!”

“Seconded!” Mercedes settled back in her seat, obviously not satisfied but willing to let the matter drop for the moment.

Ingrid ignored the way heat invaded her senses, embarrassment mixing into a deadly cocktail in her stomach. This, quite possibly, might be worse than the Valley of Torment. “Look, it happened recently, so the wedding won’t be for a while, and—”

“Was it arranged by your father?” Dimitri, realizing a moment too late he interrupted, ducked his head. “I apologize.”

“You’re fine,” she said quickly. Ever since he decided to turn over a new leaf, ever since he decided to make up for his months of madness, he apologized over the simplest of things. It was almost endearing how hard he tried to seek their forgiveness when most gave it up easily. She could not blame him for falling ill, and that was what it was. Falling ill, even if it might not come with the fever and chills most illnesses bring. “No, it was not arranged by my father, but I imagine he will be pleased with the suitor.”

“Do we know him?” The second after the question left her lips, Flayn’s face lit up. “Oh, we  _ must.  _ Surely, if your father did not arrange such a union, you came about it yourself! It must be someone here at Garreg Mach!”

“I—”

“Is it Sufjan?” Mercedes asked before Ingrid could protest against them asking. 

She shook her head. “No, of course not, that would be unprofessional.”

“It’d be romantic,” Annette argued, “but obviously not him… Even though you probably spend the most time with him.”

The protest sprang to the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it down, not willing to give away her secrets that easily. Sufjan headed the pegasi knights who accompanied her into battle. While she commanded the battalion, he served underneath her to keep it from getting too chaotic. Their interactions remained limited to talking about pegasi. Neither of them had much in common, and neither of them cared to bridge that divide since the army was large enough to have friends elsewhere.

“Oh, please, like Ingrid would bed Sufjan.” Felix huffed and crossed his arms. As he started to lean back in his chair, Sylvain’s eyes lit up. He swatted at the other man’s hand before he could try and tip him all the way back. “Sufjan is insufferably bad at everything he does. I hope Ingrid has better taste.”

“Do you know who it is?” Ashe asked softly. She sent him a look of betrayal, but he offered his kindest smile in return. “We wouldn’t judge, Ingrid. It’s just that an engagement is happy news, and I think we’re all a little short on happy news lately.”

“This  _ is  _ a happy occasion.” Mercedes scanned Ingrid’s expression. “Right?”

“I wouldn’t have put on the ring if I wasn’t willing,” she said at last, sensing the shift in the mood. They remembered the ill-fated suitor from the academy days, and she only gained more stories since then. In fact, some of them even  _ witnessed  _ it. The other day, Ashe opened a letter meant for her and had to go to the infirmary when something noxious spilled (the poison from a scorned lover). Dedue saw a man pick a fight when she was on kitchen duty, furious she would not even allow him a single date. Ingrid made it clear she did not intend to get married any time soon… But people refused to accept that, so she took matters into her own hands. “It is a happy occasion. I just…”

She glanced at all of their faces, taking in the way the news affected them. Annette and Mercedes both  _ glowed  _ at the idea, and she knew they’d return to one of their rooms to discuss the perfect wedding (and to be fair, perhaps they had reason with how much time Annette and Ashe spent together). Ashe, while quieter about it, couldn’t stop his smile, and Dedue, while  _ silent  _ about it, regarded her with warmer eyes than she saw in a long time. Even Seteth and Gilbert allowed a brief pause from the  _ chaos  _ of planning for the next move against the Empire, allowed them a reprieve from life and death. Only her childhood friends remained passive (Dimitri uncertain, Felix aloof, and Sylvain looking  _ anywhere  _ else).

With her explanation, she would tear down all those hopes and dreams. When did marriage become something of convenience? When did a wedding ring become a shield? When did it stop being about love and start being about anything else?

“I’m happy,” she finished, lacking other words to explain and lacking the will to tear this down. 

Annette beamed. “Congrats then! Maybe soon, you won’t be Ingrid Galatea, our loyal knight and fiercest friend. Maybe you’ll be… I don’t know. I still don’t know who you’re engaged to. But I bet I can sleuth it out!”

Felix snorted, disbelieving, and she frowned and kicked his chair from the side. It sent his already precariously balanced chair to one side, and he crashed down with it. Sylvain started laughing, almost hysterically, while Felix began to cuss him out.

Sylvain threw up his hands, revealing both of them since the meeting began. Ingrid froze and tried to make eye contact with him. “I didn’t even knock you over, but I  _ wish I did!  _ Good one, Annie!”

“Shut the  _ fuck up,  _ Sylvain,” growled Felix as he stood up, a frown written across his face.

“C’mon, Fe! That has to be Annette’s greatest moment  _ yet.”  _ He reached across the divide between them, offering Annette a high five. 

She instead grabbed his wrist and yanked it towards the light. “Sylvain!”

“Shit.” Sylvain’s face lost all its color, and he glanced over at Ingrid, apologetic. As he wormed away from Annette, hiding his hand again, she  _ knew  _ it was over. It was too late to take back what everyone had seen.

Dimitri’s eyes grew wide while Felix gawked at him. “What the  _ fuck?” _

“So that’s why you don’t insist on going into town anymore,” Ashe mused to himself.

Ingrid resisted the urge to slam her head against the table and wait for death to come and claim her. She knew, just as much as Sylvain did, why he stopped going into town. They spent hours talking about it in his room at night, sometimes accompanied by a wine bottle she managed to get from her  _ own  _ trips. His heart belonged to another, and besides, he stopped flirting as much when the war began. He once told the idea of being someone’s last boyfriend before war stole their life again,  _ knowing  _ he would never have a future with them, left him unsettled. He wanted something fun, and anything with death looming over their heads would not be fun.

The soon-to-be king composed himself first, turning to Ingrid. “I suppose congratulations are in order for  _ both  _ of you.”

“Your Highness—” The words stuck in her throat, and she waited for something to come to mind. What explanation could do the trick though? 

Mercedes smiled at her. “You’ll be Ingrid Gautier soon then.”

-

_ “This should… Should be the  _ best  _ day of my fucking life… Not… You know… Ugh.” Sylvain pouted into the flask he stole from Manuela before lifting it to his eye, trying to gauge how much was still inside. His hands shook furiously in the gloves he refused to take off, and as she reached over to steady them, she felt the stiffness of blood. _

_ She sighed. “Sylvain…” _

_ “This sucks. This absolutely sucks.” Still, he allowed her to take his hand and start to ease it out of the glove. It took him a second to realize her intentions before he jolted away, though, and it splashed alcohol all over him. Her own bedroom smelled like a bar now; she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Stop. Ing,  _ stop.”

_ “Stop what? You should’ve been out of this armor a long time ago, and the fact I’ve allowed you to sit in it makes me a bad friend.” Ingrid tried to stop her voice from easing too much into reproach, but she knew she failed miserably by the way he stared at her, wounded.  _

_ She wondered why he couldn’t hold his alcohol like the rest of them. One of her earliest memories was her mother offering her a sip from her wine glass, and Faerghus never enforced any drinking law. They drank for fun, they drank in mourning, and they drank when bored there. Ingrid never  _ enjoyed  _ the taste, but she enjoyed the fuzziness it gave her thoughts before she overcame that. And she always knew to drink in moderation—too sloppy meant people might try and take advantage and too much meant a damning lifelong habit to kick.  _

_ Yet, Sylvain always acted like this was the first time he ever drank. By no means should the taller, bulkier boy be a lightweight, and yet… Maybe he enjoyed the fuzziness it gave him too much. He let his careful facade slip and crack, and he exposed too many vulnerabilities. She wondered if he’d be this sloppy around Felix and Dimitri. Was it her presence that comforted him, or was he moments away from throwing up those walls she never learned how to scale, not even as a child? _

_ His voice came out softer as she wrestled the glove off, sighing when she saw the blood on the back of his hand. She already prepared a basin from the sauna to clean off, but now, it’d be cool water, and she knew it was no friend of Sylvain’s. “You’re not a bad friend… You’re my best friend.” _

_ “Don’t tell Felix,” she said, trying to make it a joke. It fell flat, and she fell into silence instead. She never learned how to be good at cheering anyone up. In their youth, Ingrid and Felix were the ones who needed help. Her temper grew hotter faster than anyone else’s, and Felix would cry over anything. _

_ Now, she supposed, she mellowed out while Felix took some of that anger from her.  _

_ With both gloves off, she tossed them into the corner where her own armor sat. Since the two of them both preferred lances over any other weapon, they ended up in the same class, competing against each other. She spent most of her time with Sylvain since they were the two knights, the two future cavaliers.  _

_ He might not prefer lances after tonight though.  _

_ Pulling the basin off the shelves, she placed it in front of Sylvain. “It’s cold, so don’t… Be careful. Let me start unhooking the armor.” _

_ “Ing…” He caught her wrist before she could climb onto her bed for the first time that night. Her feet buzzed from standing so long, and her legs ached in a way they hadn’t since that first training session with the professor, but she knew Sylvain wouldn’t be able to keep his balance standing and her bed wasn’t quite big enough to sit side-by-side.  _

_ She stared at him. “Yes?” _

_ “You’re my best friend,” he repeated, his hazel eyes the most sincere she ever saw them.  _

_ The tension left her shoulders as she sighed. “You’re mine as well. You know you can come to me with anything, right?” _

_ “I wouldn’t… Can’t go to Fe or Dima with this,” Sylvain settled on. _

_ Ingrid paused. “That’s not true, they—” _

_ “Suck at grief. And tonight is sucky. I should be celebrating, not… Not…  _ Mourning  _ him.” He huffed before releasing her, allowing Ingrid to start to get at the bulk of the armor. The professor expected them to hit the sauna or the showers after getting drenched in the blood of a demonic beast. Instead, they snuck up to her room, and she’d have to beg any of the mages to help her with cleaning spells. _

_ Then again, she could just bat her eyelashes at Lorenz and… _

_ She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. Deep down, she knew Lorenz might be the answer to her prayers. He constantly sought out noblewomen to marry one day, and she fitted that description perfectly. But she thought… She couldn’t hold a ring on her finger after she wore the one of the Fraldarius house for so long (around her neck, though, because her finger didn’t fit it at the time).  _

_ Sylvain slumped against her as she started to work at his shoulders. She floundered under the weight for a moment, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Ing, did it hurt this much? When… When  _ he  _ died?” _

_ “Glenn,” she said firmly. “We can say his name. We  _ should  _ say his name. And… And I imagine it’s different. I lost the love of my life that day—Are you laughing?” _

_ “No,” he said, clearly laughing. “It’s just… You know… We’re  _ young.  _ You’re, heh, you’re younger than me. ‘Love of my life?’ No way. You’re gonna meet so many different guys. You’re gonna fall in love with them. And you’re…” _

_ “Do you do that?” she interrupted his slurred mumblings, throwing him for a loop. “Do you fall in love with different girls, again and again?” _

_ “No.” He sighed. “But… But I’m not you. I don’t feel… I’m not like you. You deserve nothing but happiness, Ing.” _

_ “As do you.” The plate slid off into her hands, and she tossed it aside. It landed in the pile with a much too loud  _ clink.  _ Luckily, her only shared wall was Marianne, and the girl from the Golden Deer would never rat her out. Besides, perhaps she sensed the momentous occasion for the Blue Lions that night. All of them returned, dragging their feet with the burden of worlds resting on their shoulders. _

_ Clumsily, Sylvain tried to slide around. “Not like you. I’m… Our childhood is dead.” _

_ “It died a long time ago.” Still, she knew what he meant.  _ His  _ childhood died when Miklan took his final breath. She’d never be able to get the image out of her head. The way he contorted, the way he grew, the way he  _ changed.  _ And then, because the Goddess wasn’t cruel enough, he changed back in the end and became just a man. As if he hadn’t spent his whole life, not just his last few moments, spewing poison and toxin about. As if he hadn’t been a monster his whole life and his true colors finally shone through. _

_ Sylvain made excuses for him when he first started drinking. She made no attempt to stop him, but disgust still rioted in her stomach. She didn’t care how cruel the Gautiers were to Miklan. They were cruel to Sylvain too. For him to think their child abuse only reached his brother was naive. And while she hated her own father at times, she never knew him to fail her the way Sylvain’s parents failed him again and again.  _

_ It didn’t excuse his actions. She would never stop scolding him for the way he treated women. And it wouldn’t excuse Miklan’s. _

_ As she lifted the bulk of the armor off, Sylvain fell back against her. She squirmed until his head sat in her lap, and he stared up at her like she possessed the night sky. A blush settled across her cheeks, but she refused to move. “Ing, I’d stop if you wanted.” _

_ “Stop?” _

_ “Stop flirting and… Doing all that. It’s fun, but…” Sylvain sighed, flustered, but he pressed on nonetheless. “Your dad wants you to marry some stuffy nobleman with a Crest, and I’m a stuffy nobleman with a Crest. You  _ know  _ he’d approve. My parents would too. They… They don’t like my  _ gallivanting.  _ They think… Ha… They think the world is gonna have a ton of tiny Gautiers running around. I don’t know why they mind. As long as they have Crests, you know?” _

_ “Sylvain, you don’t want to marry me,” she said slowly. _

_ He pouted. “You don’t want to marry anyone. And then your dad would get off your ass. And we’d be happy, right?” _

_ “You’re my best friend. You don’t love me.” She knew that. _

_ Sylvain blinked. “‘Course I love you. You’re my sister. And… And since you earned that title unlike my brother, the piece of shit… If you ever… If you ever want a way out of marrying somebody you don’t want, I’d marry you.” _

_ “It’d be loveless.” And Ingrid wouldn’t voice it out loud because she wasn’t a silly, lovestruck fool. She knew marriage was always going to be political for her, and she knew marriage wouldn’t come out of love. The first time, Ingrid got lucky. The older she got, the more she fell in love with Glenn Fraldarius. She would’ve gladly taken his name, and she would’ve gladly satisfied her parents’ lofty wishes.  _

_ Her luck died long ago, but she still held out hope for the day she’d get to marry for love. If luck ever returned, it’d be a nobleman who didn’t care about her being a knight. That way, her father would be happy, and she would be happy. Sometimes, though, she doesn’t think the world wanted her to be happy. _

_ Her best friend—her  _ brother— _ made a noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t believe in love like that. Nobody… Nobody could  _ actually  _ love you that much. Nobody would actually give their life away for some… Some united bullshit.” _

_ “Our lives are intertwined, and I’m glad.” She reached down and started combing her hand through his sweat-mussed hair. With all the alcohol he just downed, she knew he wouldn’t be prone to moving. At least she got off the armor before he decided to crash on her lap. “And I’m glad to be your sister. I’m sorry you never got the brother you deserve.” _

_ “I got you, didn’t I?” Sylvain snorted before tossing the empty flask into the armor pile. She’d have to give that back to Manuela in the morning, or perhaps, she could give it to Byleth instead. The professor always understood without any words spoken. “Lamest fucking funeral ever.” _

_ “Well, Miklan didn’t deserve anything special,” she said, and she let the other words go unspoken. She  _ knew  _ he’d protest them.  _

_ Miklan didn’t deserve to be with Sylvain. _

_ - _

The second she stepped into the knights’ hall, she knew it to be a mistake. The professor insisted she trained with her lance today, and the training grounds crackled with venom. She could only imagine Felix pictured her head on the training dummies as he slashed at them; he always hated being out of the loop when they were younger. When he got older, he retreated to his sword when he got frustrated, so she took note of that and went to the only other place she could train. 

When they dispersed for the day, she knew nobody would leave her alone. She escaped Annette and Mercedes by ducking into  _ Sylvain’s  _ room of all places. Then, when Ingrid ventured outside again, she grabbed the lance from her room and rushed to the knights’ hall as fast as her feet would take her.

Now, though, she found every person  _ not  _ needed at the meeting this morning. News traveled fast, so she knew they  _ knew  _ what happened. Ingrid shuffled her feet in the doorway as all eyes turned to her, and she tightened her grip on her lance. 

“Ingrid!” Alois burst, pausing long enough to allow Shamir to hit him with the dull end of the practice lance. When he scowled at her, she shrugged and retreated back to the wall. “A little birdie told me the happy news!”

She sent Gilbert a dirty look, and the man glanced away. “I see the news is making its way around the monastery.”

“Have I ever told you the story of  _ my  _ engagement? It was a joyous time. I could tell you every detail of the expression on her face when I knelt down, ring in hand. Of course, there was a slight problem, but—” Alois’s eyes went misty, looking into the past.

Catherine snorted. “Alois, don’t torture the poor girl! Congrats, Galatea. Or should I call you Gautier now?”

“Galatea is fine. Or Ingrid.” She wondered if Sylvain dealt with the constant questions everywhere he went. Then again, knowing him, he was spending most of his time getting slapped by the few flings he had after returning to Garreg Mach. While he wasn’t with any of them recently, they still had the right to be offended at how abrupt their engagement was.

Shamir nodded once at her, the closest she’d receive to praise from the woman. 

“I didn’t realize the Knights were meeting here today. I will go find somewhere else to train.” Hopefully, she would find somewhere to train far away from  _ anyone.  _ While she knew she needed to wear the engagement ring, she never intended for it to get discovered quite this fast. How often did people look at others’ hands? She thought she could cover it up for a week, at the very least.

Alois gaped at her. “Nonsense! We’d be honored if you train with us today! And perhaps your husband-to-be might join us later! I knew I refused to go too far away from my wife when we got engaged—Gilbert! You haven’t told us the story of your engagement yet! Come to think of it, you haven’t said anything about your  _ marriage  _ either. Any tips for our young Miss Ingrid before she finally ties the knot? We both know that Sylvain is notorious for being a skirt-chaser… Er, no offense.”

“None taken.” Reluctantly, Ingrid crossed the room to the sitting area. As she placed her bag of supplies down, she started taking her sweet time to get ready for training. Since her armor was relatively light, she doesn’t feel bad about the lack of metal. Still, she managed to tug her short hair into a ponytail (a clear sign she needed to cut it again) and grabbed the ribbon Mercedes gave her the other day. 

Gilbert hummed. “I don’t think I have any advice. Marriage is a gift in itself, but it is different for everyone.”

“Well, that’s no fun! And I’d ask the ladies, but neither of them has gotten engaged!” Pausing, Alois gave both Catherine and Shamir a long look. “Unless they’re hiding something from me.”

“Oh, please. I don’t intend to get married for a long time… And I  _ especially  _ don’t have time to do that when Lady Rhea is still missing!” Catherine grabbed one of the wooden swords and tossed a wooden axe at Alois. He fumbled with it, still with the gauntlets on, before managing to steady his grip. “Go a few rounds with me. Maybe you’ll be less likely to keep chattering on!”

“Ha! Is that a challenge?” Slipping off his gauntlets, he adjusted his grip on the axe and offered a toothy grin. Catherine didn’t hesitate as she charged forward, ready to attack. Gilbert settled back against the wall. At some point, he had pulled a chair over, and he wrote notes as he observed their forms. 

Shamir crossed the room to Ingrid. “Need help?”

“Not today, but thank you.” She slipped the signet ring off her finger, and she added it to the ribbon. Shamir raised an eyebrow, and Ingrid got the message and turned slowly. The woman grabbed the ends and began to knot them together, a lot nimbler than what Ingrid would manage on her own. 

Her voice dropped even lower. “You may have fooled Catherine, but we both know she can be a fool. Does this involve the newest suitor?”

“My newest and only suitor is Sylvain.” Ingrid pulled away. “Can you help me with my lance work?”

“We both know you’re better at lance work than I am now.” Still, Shamir crossed the room, shamelessly dodging Alois and Catherine, and grabbed two lances. As she tossed one through the air, Ingrid managed to snatch it out of the air. Shamir was wrong; her  _ javelin  _ technique outdid hers any day… But they never gave Shamir a javelin. If she shot long-distance, she did so with her bow.

Ingrid needed to be more versatile, and Ingrid needed to learn how to become more flexible. As it stood right now, her only true talent came from being someone who rode a flying steed. The only other people who could do that in the army were Ashe and Cyril, and Ashe still preferred to be on foot.

Shamir cleared her throat and drew a line in the sand, shuffling her foot down. “If you two cross this line, it becomes a real fight.”

“Oh, please, I don’t need a big arena to defeat Alois!” Catherine called triumphantly. Alois made a noise in the back of his throat before striking her again, managing to get one swipe at her arm before she howled and attacked. Ingrid could watch Catherine fight all day. She could watch Catherine with her Thunderbrand because she fought like a storm, willing to do whatever it took to win.

Ingrid had never been willing to do whatever it took. 

As she readied herself, she felt the way the ring shifted against her torso, the way it bounced on the string. The weight was unfamiliar. When they marched to war in the near future, she might choose to leave it in her quarters… Or Sylvain’s. 

As Shamir started the fight, Ingrid allowed all other thoughts slip away. With Shamir, she couldn’t think about anything else. Otherwise, she would lose the fight before it even began. The only other person like that was Felix, and Felix fought in a drastically different way. His swordwork  _ screamed  _ Faerghus, but he wasn’t above taking cheap shots. Ingrid still hesitated doing that. She’d rather die honorably than live without.

Shamir swiped at her legs and sent her tumbling to the ground. Caught off guard, she barely managed to throw back her arms in time to keep her head from cracking against the ground. The tip of the lance found its way to her neck, and the woman raised an eyebrow. “Distracted? I never took you as one who went boy crazy.”

“I’m not.” Pushing herself up, she gritted her teeth. “Go again.”

There was only one boy she ever went ‘crazy’ for, and he passed a long time ago. Still, Glenn kept coming to mind more and more, completely unbidden. The idea of wearing someone’s ring, especially when it stayed around her neck like his ring, threw her off guard. It felt like a betrayal. While everyone spoke of moving on, she never realized how it’d feel to  _ actually  _ do that. It was one thing to mourn his presence in her life as a friend, but she never considered his impact on her future—he  _ was  _ her future. 

Shamir knocked her down again. “If you don’t stay in the present, you will never be able to best me.”

“You sound like Felix. It’s not about beating you.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead and attempted to ground herself in the here and now.  _ This  _ Ingrid was engaged to Sylvain, not Glenn.  _ This  _ Ingrid was suddenly at odds with both Felix (who would be pissy no matter when she approached him) and Dimitri (who looked hurt when they announced their engagement in the clumsiest way possible), not best friends with them.  _ This  _ Ingrid didn’t have the luxury of fantasizing over her future; she had to fight to stay alive long enough to enjoy it. 

She snorted as she leant back, giving Ingrid a chance to catch her breath. “It’s always about beating your opponent.”

“I’m okay with a draw,” she shot back. “You’d still be alive if you reached a draw on the battlefield.”

“You’re not demanding enough.” Then, Shamir shot forward, and Ingrid barely managed to lift her lance in time to deflect her. 

As she struggled to drive back Shamir, she blinked. “I’m not  _ demanding  _ enough?”

“Fight for yourself.” Something knowing entered Shamir’s eyes. “What did you tell that new suitor?”

“I don’t have to tell him anything.” She threw more force into the lance, and Shamir took a step back. Ingrid leveled it and tried to jab at her torso. The archer dodged easily and hit the space over her shoulder, inches away from her neck. Ingrid can’t tell if it was intentional or not; she can’t tell if that  _ mattered. _

The lance grazed her thigh. “Because you got engaged. So you wouldn’t have to avoid him until he went away.”

“That’s not what I do,” she huffed, knowing full well she did exactly that. Her father would have her head if she rejected men without a valid reason. Sometimes, Ingrid needed to search for it. And lately, the war provided reason enough to avoid his requests. She was too busy to engage in a proper courtship, and any abrupt engagement would appear improper. 

Shamir gave her a long look. “But you won’t fight for who you want.”

“I don’t want anyone,” she countered, knowing full well she was lying. Ingrid needed to get better at that; she couldn’t even believe herself right now.

With one nimble stroke, Shamir sent her tumbling back down. As she leaned back, she offered a smug smile. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should,” she grumbled.

-

_ “I’m worried—” _

_ “About His Highness. About me. About Felix. About Dedue. About the fight Annette and Mercedes are in,” drawled Sylvain, glancing up from the chessboard. When she scowled at him, he laughed and pushed the bishop across the board, claiming her queen. “C’mon, Ing. It’s all you talk about lately. Mostly His Highness because someone has a little—” _

_ “Shut up!” she hissed, jolting the board enough a few of the pieces fell. She blinked as he started setting back up. “How can you  _ possibly  _ remember what positions they were all in but forget to do your homework?” _

_ “What can I say? I’m a man of mystery.” He finished putting the pieces back up and offered an innocent smile. They both knew she was losing this game,  _ badly.  _ None of them could ever really compete against Sylvain. He spent too much time playing this when they were little, when he was stuck inside with one broken bone or another.  _

_ As she slid the pawn forward, he claimed it with his rook. “I’m more worried about you and Felix right now. What are you two even fighting about this time?” _

_ “Would you believe it’s just about me and my…  _ Pastimes?”  _ With a crooked smile, he eased back in the chair as she moved another pawn. He claimed it again, this time with a knight. How he positioned every piece to capture whatever she chose to move at that time was beyond her.  _

_ Biting down on her lip, she considered it for a few seconds before shaking her head. “No. You’ve been doing that for too long for any of us to break the friendship over it. It got really bad after Captain Jeralt’s death and the professor’s transformation, but…” _

_ “But neither of us were particularly close with Captain Jeralt? It was a complicated month.” He mumbled the next part underneath his breath, too soft and too fast for her to understand. Then, he brightened. “But I don’t think we’ve talked about you at the dance. I thought I saw you with one Ferdinand von Aegir—” _

_ “Don’t deflect. This is about you and Felix.” She paused. “And I never danced with Ferdinand. The only redhead I danced with was you.” _

_ “Ah, I must’ve confused us then.” He winked.  _

_ She didn’t laugh. They sat in silence as he struggled to keep his easy smile while she stared at him, disappointed. _

_ Then, he sighed. “Aren’t you fighting with Felix too? Something about Glenn—” _

_ “Sylvain. Don’t deflect.” She moved her knight to capture his bishop. He didn’t even have to look at the board as he claimed her knight and moved them into checkmate. Leaning forward, he observed the board. _

_ When he glanced up again, he kept his smile stubbornly affixed. “You’re getting better at chess. You didn’t lose—” _

_ “Sylvain.” _

_ “Fine, okay. You know the legend about the Goddess Tower?” When she said nothing, he nodded. “Yeah, I doubt you cared much about it. But anyway, the legend says something about going up there, blah blah blah, make a wish, it’ll come true, you’ll end up together. So I told Dorothea we should meet there, and when she said yes, I got excited because… Well, she’s  _ Dorothea.  _ But I guess she was pranking me because she told Felix to meet me up there instead, but Felix thought I invited him up there, and I don’t even know why he’d go up there if he knew I invited him…” _

_ She could see where this story ended. “Oh, Sylvain…” _

_ “But he was there, and so was I, and I made some joke about the Goddess Tower legend. And then Felix… He… Uh…” He flailed his hand around, and she tried to decode it before realizing it had no meaning behind it. Sylvain was getting flustered, and when Sylvain got flustered, he tried even harder to be breezy and nonchalant.  _

_ Ingrid sensed the end of the story though. Mercedes made a comment the other day about Felix gaining more  _ experience,  _ and she thought he might murder her. She ignored the twinge of jealousy he would tell Mercedes instead of her though. They grew apart ever since he told her to just  _ go get a husband.  _ He knew it wasn’t that simple. “And he kissed you.” _

_ “What? I…” He hesitated before sighing, all the anxious energy disappearing into the air. “Yeah. He kissed me. And then I made some stupid comment about fate bringing him to me instead of Dorothea, because I’m a dumbass and fuck everything up, and then he slapped me and left, and… The whole situation felt surreal.” _

_ “Sylvain…” She sighed.  _

_ He shrugged. “Don’t. I don’t need the lecture. I think I’ve gotten enough of it from Mercedes  _ and  _ Dorothea. Or, at least, lecture me later. Distract me from this. Tell me, er… How’s His Highness doing?” _

_ “I’d be a fool to say I wasn’t worried.” This time, she’d allow him to deflect. They’d discuss this later. She’d bring up the fact he always ‘fucked up’ things he wanted. She’d bring up the fact he never allowed himself to be happy, that he always managed to sabotage himself somehow. She’d bring up the fact he shouldn’t allow Dorothea, of all people, to judge and shame him for flirting when she did the same thing. “But I’d be a fool to say I’m the one who can get through to him.” _

_ “Are you jealous?” He paused as he started to reset up the board, examining her features. When she tried to school them into a mask, he broke out cackling. Out of the two of them, he was the one who knew how to hide himself. “Holy shit, you are! Wait, wait, who are you even jealous of? Dedue? The professor? Wait… Wait, is it the professor?” _

_ “I just feel like none of you come to me anymore. I used to be… I used to be the person you came to for advice.” She sighed. “That’s petty and small of me.” _

_ “No, it’s not. I like protecting my friends too… But I’m pretty sure everyone came to  _ me  _ for advice.” He kicked her underneath the table, and she scowled and flexed her leg. Still, though, a small smile started to form. “Like, do you remember when Dimitri decided the best gift to give to his crush was a  _ dagger?  _ And do you remember a little girl who got terribly jealous of that girl getting a dagger that she decided she would never use one? And she would never use a sword? And some legend says that she still only uses a lance today.” _

_ “That’s not why I used a lance. It’s the easiest to use on a pegasus,” she grumbled. It might’ve influenced her decision, but ultimately, that was why she elected to use a lance. She was going to be a pegasus knight… And if she couldn’t excel enough to be on a pegasus, then she would excel enough to be on a horse. Nonetheless, the weapon she needed to learn how to use was a lance. _

_ He shrugged. “I used a lance because it had the greatest reach.” _

_ To keep Miklan back, just another inch? She remembered the one story told about Sylvain fighting back, but he only started to do that once Miklan picked a fight with Felix. When Felix came back to them with a black eye, Sylvain went at Miklan with a sword… And when they saw Sylvain again, he was huddled underneath a blanket so big it could dwarf him, dosed with painkillers and faith magic and vulneraries. _

_ She shoved that thought away. “I miss our friendship, Sylvain. Things were simpler back then. We had less… We didn’t have these duties and responsibilities. We could be whoever we wanted to be.” _

_ “You still can be.” Sylvain offered a wry smile. “And the friendship is over. Sure, Felix won’t talk to me. And Dimitri is acting a little insane. But they’ll come back to us, Ing. Besides,  _ we  _ never fight.” _

_ She lifted an eyebrow. _

_ He amended his statement. “About anything important.” _

_ “Dimitri is just… I don’t even know how to explain this. I can’t reach him. And the only person who can reach him is Dedue, and he’s…” She hesitated, she choked, on her next words because she knew they’d be vile and hateful. And she was trying. _

_ Sylvain said nothing, but the shame filled the air anyway. Because she shouldn’t blame him for the Tragedy of Duscur. She shouldn’t look at Dimitri’s friendship with Dedue and think about its flawed existence. She needed to get over this. She needed to be better. There shouldn’t be a learning curve not to be… Not to be  _ racist.  _ She should just get over her bigotry and awfulness. _

_ But every time she thought she succeeded, she remembered the Tragedy of Duscur, or she called Dedue a name, and she knew she failed.  _

_ “He’s not me,” she finished. _

_ Sylvain still said nothing, sensing the shift in the mood. Finally, he reached across the chessboard and took her hand. “Maybe don’t talk to His Highness then. He’s… He’s unreachable, then. But Dedue’s there, and Dedue just wants what’s best for him. So talk to him instead.” _

_ “Since when did you get so wise?” she sighed. _

_ He smirked. “Ever since everyone came to me for advice and I kicked your ass at chess.” _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ “No, you don’t.” _

_ - _

“These are the flowers we used to display at weddings.” Dedue crouched in the greenhouse, fondling one of the petals. Then, he reached over and grabbed the watering can he brought with him. It still glistened with water, and she suspected he dunked it into the pond to fill it up. The old ways of getting water broke down over time and over the course of the war; it was the easiest way now.

She pressed her lips together, not sure what to say. When she entered the greenhouse, desperate to escape Shamir’s quiet judgment, she didn’t expect anyone to be hanging out here. She doesn’t have the entire schedule memorized, but she  _ knew…  _ She  _ knew  _ nobody should be here in the greenhouse. 

Instead, she found both the future king and the retainer sitting amongst the flowers. Neither of them turned to acknowledge her presence, but somehow, she doubted Dedue didn’t know she entered. He  _ always  _ knew when someone entered the room. After all, his duty was to protect Dimitri, and he wouldn’t be very good at his job if he allowed a sneak attack.

Dimitri reached out to touch it, to feel the petal, but he ended up snapping the flower off. He flinched. “I’m sorry, Dedue, I didn’t mean—”

“Be more gentle,” murmured Dedue. “But since you plucked that one anyway, perhaps Lady Ingrid would like it.”

“Ingrid?” He shifted to see her, and his eyes grew wide. Stumbling to his feet, Dimitri somehow missed the way the dirt and mud fell all around them since they went off the typical path to reach the rarer flowers.  _ “Ingrid.  _ I’m so sorry, I did not hear you come in! Do you… Uh… Do you want this flower? I know this is really awkward, but…”

“Of course, Your Highness.” She closed the distance between them and grabbed it from his fingers. He crushed the stem in how tightly he gripped it, and it started to fray from that, but instead, she tucked it behind her ear and offered a smile. “These are beautiful, Dedue.”

“His Highness asked me to show him the flowers commonly used at weddings.” He turned to her with a clear understanding in his eyes. She blinked and turned her head away before he could say anything more. More and more people doubted the legitimacy of this engagement, and it left her writhing. She reached down and twisted Sylvain’s ring, running her fingers over its smooth surface.

Dimitri sighed. “When am I going to convince you two to call me by my name?”

“Never,” they recited dutifully, and he laughed. 

For a second, she allowed herself to study the future king. As he started to squat in the flowers again, he lost most of his regalness. Due to the sticky heat floating through the greenhouse, Dimitri shed both his dark armor and his fur cloak. Instead, he donned a white dress shirt and black slacks, and if she squinted through the leaves, she could make out a lance. His hair was somehow  _ more  _ unkempt from this morning, and he streaked both dirt and mud by accident. 

Even when they were younger, he looked more comfortable wearing a crown than anything else. Some people at Garreg Mach still whispered about whether or not the ‘Mad King’ could be allowed to rule in Faerghus. Right now, she saw no traces of madness. The only person who remained was Dimitri, her old friend, even if she couldn’t bring herself to call him simply that anymore. 

After realizing the pause had lingered too long, she cleared her throat. “Though you do not need to be searching for flowers for my wedding. I do not— _ We  _ do not intend to get married any time soon. When we do get married, it will not be some spur of a moment thing done because we are in the middle of a war. We want to wait.”

Dedue still watched her, waiting for her to tell the truth. She spun the ring around her finger again. 

“I’m being silly… But I liked the idea of being able to help plan your wedding. I feel as though I have not been a good friend for the two of you. I hadn’t even noticed you two growing… Close. I never noticed you wanting anyone after Glenn, and you know Sylvain. He wants  _ too  _ much.” He paused, and then a furious red blush overtook his face. He settled back on his haunches and sighed. “Though I suppose that is not fair. I could… We  _ all  _ could take a lesson in getting what you want from Sylvain. He never allows himself to feel unsatisfied, and I…”

“Do you feel unsatisfied, Your Highness?” Dedue asked, almost blandly. Dimitri turned, something unreadable on his expression. For a second, Dedue’s lips twitched as if a smile wanted to form. Then, he let it fade completely.

After he composed herself, he returned to trying to tend to the flowers. “No, of course not. I just… I’m happy for you. And I’m happy for Sylvain.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It happened very suddenly.” She shuffled her feet. 

Inspecting the two of them, Dedue got to his feet and walked over to the other side. When she sent him a questioning look, he made a pointed glance at the future king before going to other flowers and bushes. She sighed. She remembered that look well. As two of Dimitri’s fondest keepers, those looks always meant the other needed to tend to him in their absence. More times than not, she was the one leaving Dimitri’s side.

Why would he leave her alone with him now?

Ingrid crouched down beside Dimitri and played with one of the green flowers. “These are rather beautiful, Your Highness. When there is a ceremony in the future, we will have to include them.”

“They match your eyes,” he said quietly.

She startled. “Oh. I suppose they do. I have to confess, I’m one of the worst bride-to-bes. I didn’t really spend much time planning my dream wedding growing up. My dream wedding would probably… No, that’s silly.”

“Indulge me, Ingrid. We grew up together, so I’m curious what you were thinking about all those years ago.” He offered a threadbare smile, and she  _ knew  _ this to be an olive branch. He still tried so hard to make it up to them. If Ingrid confessed then the only apology she needed was the promise Dimitri would continue working towards fixing  _ himself,  _ he would insist she was indulging him in a different matter. 

So, she smiled and sat in the dirt instead, no longer kneeling. She anticipated staying in here a lot longer than expected, and besides, the professor would understand. “I suppose I would’ve liked to elope. If I could, I’d say my vows on the back of the pegasus and continue flying into the dawn. And when the sun finally set over the horizon, when we could no longer chase the sun in its path, we would touch down in Galatea territory.”

“That… Sounds like you.” He hesitated, and she knew the next question. She nodded, waiting for him to ask. If he didn’t, she would almost feel disappointed. “Would you have done that with Glenn?”

“No.” The laugh came unbidden, and she fiddled with the ring again. As she slipped it off her finger, she closed her eyes and imagined the Fraldarius ring. Another laugh pushed through, and she tried to force it away. But she would wear both Sylvain and Felix’s house rings, and she still might not marry into either family. “Goddess, no. We both know our wedding would have been a grand affair. I would’ve been… Well, actually, I would’ve been younger than we are right now, but I would’ve worn my mother’s dress. She married young too. You and Sylvain and Felix would’ve come, dressed to the nines. You probably wouldn’t be able to stay for long, but maybe you could because you convinced your parents… I’m sorry. I wasn’t... I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. I asked about Glenn. It’s only natural if Glenn lived, they… They would’ve lived.” His voice cracked, and his eyes drifted to the shadows in the greenhouse. Right now, he started to drift into that other world… The world of revenge and mistakes. 

She reached out and tried to pull him back. “That’s what my wedding would’ve been like. It’s not quite my dream, but it doesn’t make it… I’m not someone who likes getting dressed up.”

“Would you do your old plan with Sylvain? I know he likes a party, but surely… For you, he’d sacrifice that.” Dimitri paused, and he scooted forward. As he grazed his hand over the flowers’ heads, he kept himself from looking at her. 

Ingrid shifted forward and grabbed his hand. He startled before relaxing into the touch. “Sometimes, you just want to spend time with old friends. I think… It may not be a pegasus, but I enjoy your guys’ company. And besides, I think Mercedes and Annette will get a kick out of it, so maybe it’ll be worth it.”

“I think you should do what you want. Have… Two weddings then. You’re both heirs to relatively prominent houses, so we couldn’t just do nothing, but… Have that wedding on the back of a pegasus first.” He turned to face her. 

She grabbed his other hand and pulled him closer, closer. “I don’t think Sylvain likes heights very much.”

“I don’t like heights very much, but I would do it for you.” Then, at that moment, his face went bright red and he pulled away. As he sprung to his feet, he started trampling back towards the entrance of the greenhouse, embarrassed, flustered,  _ ashamed.  _ “I apologize, I don’t know what came over me, that was improper—”

“Wait—” She dodged and weaved through the flowers he left behind in his heavy steps, ignoring the careless way he tried to flee from her. Clearing her throat, she tried again as she lunged for his hand.  _ “Wait.  _ What do you mean  _ ‘for me?’  _ Does that… What does that mean, Your Highness— _ Dima?” _

“It’s unfair to do this to you. It’s unfair to Sylvain…” He paused, still not facing her.

But Ingrid had always been faster than Dimitri, even as a child. She pulled off the ring of Gautier, slipping it into her pocket instead. And then, with her bare hands, she reached up and wrapped her arms loosely about her shoulders. He tensed, and she almost fled backwards. “Is… Is this okay?”

“Okay?” His voice cracked. “This is a betrayal to Sylvain, to Glenn—”

“Do you care for me? Like that?”

“We can’t do this. Not with Sylvain.” He pulled back, and he grabbed her hand where the ring used to be. As he presented it in the sunlight reflecting off the glass, he stared at the space where the ring used to be. “Sylvain is one of my oldest friends, and so are you. I will not wrong either of you anymore—”

“We’re not—” But Dimitri was ripping away, he was fleeing, he was  _ running.  _ And he was outside of the greenhouse in an instant, faster than she could find the words she wanted to say. It was only when Dedue’s shoulder knocked against her, trying to reach the king again, that she found what she wanted to say again.

She said it into the open air, she said it to herself. “We’re not marrying for love. We’re marrying for convenience.”

-

_ He found her on the third floor after she snuck past the professor, Mercedes, and every single Knight of Seiros. While none of them actively discouraged the former students using this space, they preferred they didn’t do so at night. It was as if they were waiting for Rhea to return and lie in that bed. It was as if they thought if they waited long enough, she would magically appear, sitting up and ready to start the day again. _

_ Ingrid sat on the railing, the wind shoving the hair back from her face, eyes closed as she tried to let the world fade all around her. Her knuckles might be going white, her skin might be cold from where the wind kissed and danced on it, a stronger wind might send her crashing to the ground, but the numbness was what she needed right now.  _

_ “You know I suck at stealth missions, and yet, you made me do this.” Sylvain’s voice didn’t startle her, not in the least. Instead, she waited for him to settle next to her, leaning forward on the railing, the warmth driving away that ugly chill. “Practically everyone in the monastery told me you were upset, but I’m going to be honest. I don’t know what you’re upset about.” _

_ “I can’t keep saying no. I… I know my father means well, but he made that very clear to me. With the professor back, we’re turning the tides of the war, but Galatea will lose their claim to their land the second war ends unless I marry someone soon.” She sighed. “The newest suitor will arrive at the monastery in a few days. And this one, I think I will have to say yes to unless I want everything my parents have ever worked for to go down the drain. So… I guess I’m relishing my last taste of freedom.” _

_ “So, you have to get married.” He doesn’t ask it as a question, and she doesn’t answer it like one. They both knew this was coming. Even from the days of the academy, time continued to slip through their fingers. And while Sylvain always had more time left on his clock, his would run out soon enough. They both needed to get married. They both needed to respect their parents’ wishes. They never had a choice, not unless they wanted everything they knew to disappear entirely.  _

_ She remembered then what her mother once told her. As she continued to find reasons to say no, her mother had sighed and told her… “At least I’m pretty. I could get anyone in this world if I tried.” _

_ “That’s… That’s bullshit,” Sylvain muttered. _

_ Shifting on the railing, Ingrid opened her eyes and studied him. The wind threw his hair back from his face again, but the strands remained mussed and awkward. In a way, it reminded her of the old days of the academy. While he used a comb and gel when he needed, he  _ knew  _ keeping it messy was more appealing for those younger students. “And here I thought you would understand. You’ve used your looks for a long time.” _

_ “I’m not  _ you,  _ I’m not the future knight.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it further. “I’m just Sylvain.” _

_ “I’m just Ingrid. Soon, I won’t even be Ingrid Galatea.” This time, she moved even further back from the railing. Sylvain scooted over and reached for her, letting her fall back into his arms to steady her. As her feet hit the ground, she grabbed at his arms and pulled him to the ground with her. _

_ Sylvain laughed and let him do just that. As the two of them sprawled on the ground, she settled into his arm and gazed up at the stars now. This way, she could still ignore the world stretching out before them. The kingdom continued working towards a brighter future without her. Even if Ingrid raged and screamed, nobody— _ nothing— _ cared her life came crashing down around her.  _

_ When his laughter died down, she still curled into the vibrations in his chest. She enjoyed this cloak of his. While it wasn’t the fur cloak of Dimitri’s, the wolf fur still felt soft, comfortable. “Are you drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this… Carefree.” _

_ “Carefree? I feel as if I care about everything entirely too much.” She pressed her ear against his chest and let his heart thrum in rhythm with hers. As his chest raised with every breath he took, she fell in tempo with his. “Remember the days of the academy? I miss how… Simple everything was back then.” _

_ “Simple? Life was hell back then. It was just less hellish than now.” Sylvain snorted. “Remember the mess that was the ball?”  _

_ “You mean the time you and Felix kissed?” A smile started to form, and he reached over to start playing with her hair.  _

_ He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I… I thought… Well, it felt like we had a lot more opportunities back then than we do now. I don’t even know how to bring up that topic with Fe, and every time something remotely close comes up, he says something about me flirting with every woman in town, and I… Don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. And he deserves someone better than—” _

_ “Marry me,” she blurted. _

_ He froze. “What?”  _

_ She flipped over until she stared at him, inches away from his face. When he scanned her features, looking for a trace of humor, looking for some sign of a joke, he snorted. “What? You don’t want to marry me. Remember that one time I proposed to you, and you told me you didn’t want a loveless marriage.” _

_ “Then… Then, we can get divorced later on. Or this can be temporary. Until you patch things up with Felix or find someone you genuinely love. I will always let you back out of this marriage. But it’d solve my problem right now. And it’d… I don’t know. It’s stupid, but maybe that’ll be the breaking point for Felix, and he’ll finally ask you out.” She offered a strained smile. It sounded silly and naive, and she didn’t know if she could really agree with every word coming out of her mouth.  _

_ But he stared at her, and he slowly started nodding. “You’re not wrong. The only person I’ve ever wanted to spend my life with, besides you but you’re different, was Fe. And he deserves better than me.” _

_ “He doesn’t—” _

_ “He  _ does.  _ And since I’m not willing to ruin his life, maybe I can help you from ruining yours.” A small smile started to play at his lips. _

_ She hesitated. “I’m not saying sacrifice everything you might want to help me solve my problems.” _

_ “I’m not doing that. ‘Sides, if I die in the war now, at least you’ll still get a way out. Then, my death will mean something rather than just proving how little good I’ve done with my life so far—” He made a pained noise when she slapped her hand over his mouth, desperate to shut him up.  _

_ Shaking her head, she pulled back. “No, I don’t accept that. Sylvain, you’ve done so much good with your life already. You’ve made my life so much better just by being in it. Remember when you said you were the one we went to for advice? That’s still true. You’re still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. So, don’t just belittle yourself like that. Marry me, but if you find a better option, then you take it. Don’t self-sabotage. This is just a way for me to keep my suitors at bay until we find a better option.” _

_ “And if you don’t?” Disbelief colored his tone, and it suddenly was abundantly clear he didn’t imagine she’d find a way out of this.  _

_ She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think we both try to be practical as we chase the unattainable. Maybe we can reach our goals, and we just haven’t realized it yet. You could be with Felix, and while I know it is improper and wrong to most Faerghus nobles, you’re close friends with the king. Who in their right mind would ever say no when the  _ king  _ backs them up?” _

_ “And you could be the queen.” He smirked up at her. _

_ She sighed. “Yes, but that goal is even less attainable than yours. Perhaps, we should stop putting our future in the hands of other people. Perhaps, my goal should simply be happy. And if that involves knighthood and marriage, only time will tell.” _

_ “If anyone deserves happiness,” Sylvain murmured, “it’s you, Ing.” _

_ “We all do. And the first order of business is ending this damned war.” _

_ - _

She sought out Felix first. Before she even truly thought about seeing Dimitri again, she sought out the one friend she hadn’t seen during this whole debacle. Sylvain and Ingrid had been engaged all of one day, and everything continued to fall to pieces around them. She didn’t want to call off her engagement right then, no matter what Felix said. The suitor her father sent still hadn’t arrived, and she didn’t want to get caught up in this messiness again.

But she found Felix where she always knew she would. “Felix. Hi. I feel as if we haven’t gotten a chance to talk since the news came out.”

“I’m training. Go away.” He ran a training dummy through with his wooden sword, and his Crest activated in the air above him. She winced. For his Crest to activate in training, he must be upset. His seemed to be closely tied with his emotions; as a child, he activated it almost every time he started to lose a match against Glenn and started crying.

She paused as she took a seat on one of the benches, sitting cross-legged as she observed her old friend. “I don’t think I ever saw Glenn’s Crest activate. I actually don’t think I could tell you if it was major or minor.”

“Go away,” Felix said in lieu of an answer.

Ignoring his brutish ways, she leant back against the wall and hummed. “You told me to move on past Glenn, but I still wonder if you’re okay with this engagement. I want you to know that I’m not forgetting Glenn—”

His Crest activated again, bathing the training grounds in a green hue for a second, before he broke the wooden sword in half. He growled and tossed it aside, stalking towards the rack of the other training weapons. She made a mental note to buy a new one from the market. Otherwise, the professor would question who ran off with one, and she didn’t want to relive any memory of this discussion. “Great. Now I’m the boar.”

“I don’t think I can ever forget Glenn,” she continued, trying to act as if he wasn’t ignoring her attempts at conversation. When he stiffened grabbing the other sword, she tried to worm her way into the opening. “You know that I loved him.”

“I know that you loved  _ him,  _ but I don’t know that you love Sylvain.” Felix yanked out the sword, harsh enough the rack went clattering to the ground behind him. He ignored that and started to adjust his stance. Right as he readied a sword, he turned instead and pointed at her with the sword. “In fact, I don’t think you do. I think you’re trying to  _ replace  _ Glenn with whoever’s nearest, and it happens to be Sylvain. And just because Sylvain reminds you of Glenn doesn’t mean you should try and hook up with him.”

“Sylvain doesn’t remind me of Glenn…” She hesitated, though, trying to think it through. “They might have the same crude mouth and glibness, but—”

“But nothing. They’re similar, and you’re just still trying to marry someone like Glenn.” He started to grind his teeth together, and his knuckles went white on the hilt of the sword. “I don’t care how much you miss my brother. You can’t replace him with… With  _ Sylvain  _ of all people.”

“I’m not.” At the very least, Ingrid could say that much. He could accuse her of not loving Sylvain; that much was very true. But what she had with Glenn was special, and she could not entertain the notion of letting someone else slide into that position in her life. They could occupy a similar space, but they would never be the exact same. Glenn was her first love; that didn’t mean she couldn’t get more later on.

Perhaps Sylvain was right all those years ago. Perhaps she was always going to fall in love, again and again. Maybe it meant people can have more than one soulmate, maybe it meant people could move on after all.

He shook his head. “You are, and it disgusts me.”

“Felix, I don’t even see how that’s possible. They’re not that similar—”

“Not that… Do you even  _ hear  _ yourself? He has a lot in common! They’re both paladins, they both have an affinity for magic, and they’re both reckless fools on the battlefield!” He gestured with the sword, swinging it about like it could point something out to her. 

She paused, drinking in the words. She bit down on her tongue to keep from saying something she might regret, and she watched as he gave up on waiting for her to speak, returning to the dummy. Right before he swung, Ingrid knew what she wanted to say. “Sylvain isn’t going to die on you.”

Felix missed.

“What the  _ fuck?  _ I never said he was.” He turned, cheeks bright red.

She nodded. “I know. But… Maybe I’ve been reading this situation wrong. You know, even  _ I  _ can be wrong sometimes.”

“Let your husband make the jokes. You suck at it,” he growled.

A smile twisted at her features before she shoved it away. “I know. Sylvain has always been the funny one and one we go to for advice. And he always  _ will  _ be. You know, he didn’t… We didn’t get engaged because he thinks he won’t make it out of this war alive. He doesn’t intend to make me a widower. And he’s not like Glenn. I loved… I  _ love  _ Glenn still, but Sylvain has more experience than him.”

“Experienced people die in battle every day,” Felix countered. “And Sylvain spends most of his time… I’d say flirting but apparently, he reserves that exclusively for you now.”

“He might.” She tried to study his reaction. “But I think he’d prefer to be flirting with you.”

“What are you talking about? You literally got  _ engaged.”  _ Felix huffed. “And now you’re trying to set him up with me. You’re a little late. And besides, I wouldn’t want to date such an insufferable fool.”

“You should talk to Sylvain,” she said at last. Because this secret had become both of theirs, and if anyone deserved to tell Felix the truth, deserved to tell Felix that this whole engagement was a sham meant to keep people from proposing and satisfy her father, it should be Sylvain. 

He groaned. “Fine. I will. Now, will you fuck off so I can train?”

“Can I watch?” And when he doesn’t respond, she took it as a yes. 

She started to twist the ring around her finger as she watched him train. She couldn’t call off the engagement so soon. It was the only light at the end of the tunnel. It was a happyish ending. Sure, it didn’t make all of her dreams come true, and it didn’t make all of Sylvain’s come true, but it would leave both of them content. And they still didn’t have other options. They had Dimitri, flaky on his feelings, and Felix, who refused to have them. This was the easiest way out. 

But maybe… Maybe Ingrid would get lucky, and it’d all work out anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this because i wanted to end the dimitri/ingrid drought, and then i ended up writing like 11k of ingrid and sylvain friendship, and i don't even like the ending because it doesn't END haha. i might write a followup to this story because i love ingrid and sylvain and BOTH of them deserve happy endings not just happyish endings (so, like, please leave a comment of what you'd like to see in a followup because i just want to hang out with the blue lions some more :) )


End file.
